The Berries Past My Lips
by RoMaNTiCiLLuSioNSof.the.HeaRT
Summary: The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above the trumpets. But he is too late. And for the first time in history, the Capitol will not have its’ victor.


**The Berries Past My Lips**

The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above the trumpets. But she is too late. And for the first time in history, the Capitol will not have its' victor.

"As I stoop to pick it up, Claudius Templesmith's voice booms into the arena.

'Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has been disclosed that only one winner may be allowed,' he says. 'Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.'

There's a small burst of static and then nothing more. I stare at Peeta in disbelief as the truth sinks in. They never intended to let us both live. This had all been devised by the Gamemakers to guarantee the most dramatic showdown in history. And like a fool, I bought into it.

'If you think about it, it's not that surprising,' he says softly. I watch as he painfully makes it to his feet. Then he's moving toward me, as if in slow motion, his hand is pulling the knife from his belt-

Before I am even aware of my actions, my bow is loaded with the arrow pointed straight at his heart. Peeta raises his eyebrows and I see the knife has already left his hand on its way to the lake where is splashes in the water. I drop my weapons and take a step back, my face burning in what can only be shame.

'No,' he says. 'Do it.' Peeta limps toward me and thrusts the weapons back into my hands.

'I can't,' I say. 'I won't.'

'Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato,' he says.

'Then you shoot me,' I say furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. 'You shoot me and go home and live with it!' And as I say it, I know death right here, right now, would be the easier of the two.

'You know I can't,' Peeta says, discarding the weapons. 'Fine, I'll go first anyway.' He leans down and rips the bandage off his leg, eliminating the final barrier between his blood and earth.

'No, you can't kill yourself,' I say. I'm on my knees, desperately plastering the bandage back onto his wound.

'Katniss,' he says. 'It's what I want.'

'You're not leaving me here alone,' I say. Because if he dies, I'll never go home, not really. I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena trying to think my way out.

'Listen,' he says pulling me to my feet. 'We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me.' And he goes on about how much he loves me, what life would be without me but I've stopped listening because his previous words are trapped in my head, thrashing desperately around.

_We both know they have to have a victor._

Yes, they have to have a victor. Without a victor, the whole thing would blow up in the Gamemakers' faces. They'd have failed the Capitol. Might possibly even be executed, slowly and painfully while the cameras broadcast it to every screen in the country. If Peeta and I were to both die, or they thought we were…

My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt, freeing it. Peeta sees it and his hand clamps on my wrist. 'No, I won't let you.'

'Trust me,' I whisper. He holds my gaze for a long moment then lets me go. I loosen the top of the pouch and pour" fifteen "berries into his palm. Then I fill my own. 'On the count of three?'

Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. 'The count of three.'

We stand, our backs pressed together, our empty hands locked tight.

'Hold them out. I want everyone to see,' he says.

I spread out my fingers, and the dark berries glisten in the sun. I give Peeta's hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a good-bye, and we begin counting. 'One.' Maybe I'm wrong. 'Two.' Maybe they don't care if we both die. 'Three!' It's too late to change my mind. I lift my hand to my mouth, taking one last look at the world. The berries have just past my lips when the trumpets begin to blare.

The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. 'Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you – the tributes of District Twelve!'

I spew the berries from my mouth, wiping my tongue with the end of my shirt to make sure no juice remains." (342-346, The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins) and ask Peeta anxiously, "How many berries do you have left?"

"Fifteen," he says. He kisses me desperately yet gently. "You?"

I count the berries in my hand. I frown. "Just a moment, I think I miscounted." I count again urgently.

Peeta hears my sharp intake of breath. He takes my empty hand in his and counts himself. I see him stop breathing. "Breathe, Peeta," I order him not unkindly. He takes a deep breath.

"Katniss, there are only fourteen berries in your hand."

"That's impossible. I am _positive_ that I did not swallow anything!" I shake my head in denial. "Maybe I dropped one; help me search through the grass." We both drop to our knees and scan the ground for anything out of place among the grassy plain. I abandon my search and stand up. Peeta does the same.

"I can't find anything," I say in disbelief shaking my head. Peeta takes my hands from my sides and clasps them between his two strong hands developed from years of kneading bread dough. He draws our hands to his chest, pulling me to him simultaneously. He kisses my forehead.

"That's alright; it probably rolled somewhere down towards the lake. Let's continue our search over there."

He begins to tow me towards the aforementioned area. But he barely moves before my body convulses in seizures and I fall to the ground coughing. I feel a burning in my throat. It spreads to encompass my heart, lungs, and gut. The worst of it hits my stomach. I clutch it in pain, a habit, but I know it will do no good. My body has curled up but not into a full ball. I tear at the grass, begging for some relief. I distantly hear Peeta calling my name desperately, crouching by my side with tears running down his face, but I do not-nay, _cannot_ respond. I am in so much pain. Through my own tear shrouded eyes I can just barely make out the shape of the hovercraft. _It is coming to fetch Peeta! _ I think joyously. _He will live! The capitol will have a victor. I will have died for his sake. I have never thought much about how I would die. But I never thought that it would be of intentional poisoning. At least the whole country will know of my fate. I will not fade into the unknown, doomed to dance on the edge of people's minds and memories. No, they will know my fate whether they like it or not. I refuse to become forgotten. I will not be like just another miner from the pitiable District 12. The future tributes will find a good mentor in Peeta. _The hovercraft's claws reach out and drag Peeta away from me.

With the last of my strength I whisper to him, "I love you, never forget that. Or me. I will see you in whatever afterlife there is. You still owe me one." I smile dimly. He is still screaming, struggling for all he's worth against the iron claws of the hovercraft. But there is no avail. He is dragged inside but continues to pound against the door. Peeta jumps out. _No! A fall like that will kill you! _ But his fall is cushioned by the lake water. He always was lucky. He swims madly toward me. Peeta reaches me and takes me into his arms, my head in his lap.

I cannot hear anything anymore. The poison is slowly taking over my body. I find that unusual. This type of berry usually kills in seconds. I guess I didn't get all of the juice out of my mouth. One drop is all it takes. My body trembles violently. I thrash violently and dimly see cameras all around me. I know I am groaning in pain. At least I'm not screaming. I am not wimpy. But I do yell lowly. To my embarrassment, my stomach tries to eject the poison. I find a pile of vomit next to my head. I am disgusted with myself. I showed weakness; I could have swallowed it. Peeta somehow held me to him, he cries over me. _Don't cry,_ I think. I am too weak for words now.

Peeta lies down next to me and takes me in his arms. He reaches a hand into my pocket. I am too feeble to stop him. _No…_ He pops the death berry into his mouth. He kisses me, stifling my choked sobs with his mouth. His arms wrap around my waist with the last of his strength and pull me close to him, our legs and arms intertwined.

This story _does_, however, have a happy ending. The poison crept into my heart and stopped it. It did the same for Peeta. He took a larger dosage so he died quicker and without the seizures or vomit. He always was lucky.

As I said, this account does have a happy ending. The poison killed us together, and we died together. And we entered our heaven together, forever.

**A/N:**** The first part is script taken directly out of ****The Hunger Games ****by Suzanne Collins. For a visual image of Katniss' death, picture Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, the movie, while Voldemort is inside Harry. Or, in Twilight, the movie, Bella as the venom is pulsing through her body. This is my first story in this category. And I hope you enjoyed it. I know it's depressing, but when you review, I would appreciate it if you could look past that to the overall picture or something. I love constructive criticism! Please Read and Review!! :]**


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